


i put my high heels on (so i'm closer to god)

by teenxidle



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: F/F, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-02 00:10:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1050225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenxidle/pseuds/teenxidle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time you fuck her is in Paris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i put my high heels on (so i'm closer to god)

The first time you fuck her is in Paris, with the neon lights painting shadows across her writhing body. Her mouth is a harsh back-lit line, opening in a surprised 'o', and you smile as you bite down on the soft white flesh of her thighs. You count her teeth gleaming white against a black-red backdrop and think about pulling them out one by one.

***

She always cries for the lost ones and you don't understand. Some days she smashes mirrors or throws suitcases or rakes her hands down the hotel walls again and again until her fingertips are bloody and her polish is in tatters. You hold her hands and gently apply soft pinks to her nails until she looks good as new.

***

Sometimes she screams at you furiously, her voice crackling and breaking and full of accusations, and you lean against the wall and think of American history, of how far back you can calculate the decimals of Pi, of whether or not you will get that smudgy black Chanel eyeliner because Lagerfeld has become a bit tacky this year. Some days she nearly hits you, stopping her fists inches from you, because she might lash out but she never hurts the people she loves. You catch her wrists and kiss the tears off her cheeks, drinking in her sorrow.

***

She glitters beautifully on your arm. She is an ornament, a gemstone, a many-faceted diamond that reflects the best of you back at you. When you catch your reflection in her large liquid eyes you look... different. You are who you want to be. Her animated face and mobile mouth transform you, transcend you, transmutate you. You are. You are.

***

When she isn't sad she's happy. She is the ocean and you are the tide, pulling and pushing her, twisting her deftly under your fingers. You're living for her. You play dress up in haute couture gowns, going out in too high heels, manipulating and stealing your way across Europe with her on your side like a super villain's eye candy. Sidekick. Femme fatale. Best friend. Lover. Cheap fuck. Doll.

***

You don't bother to turn the lights off. Most nights you don't even make it to the hotel room, holding her delicate hand and leading her through twisted corridors, pushing her against the designer wallpaper and pushing deeper and deeper inside her. She gasps sharply when you twist your fingers roughly inside her, working her harder, and she's biting on her knuckles to keep from screaming. She's blushing prettily, twisting her head around to look if no one's coming, as you catch her in a sloppy open-mouthed kiss, pink and red lipstick smudging, mapping her body in mixed shades and claiming it as your territory. She pants and sweats and comes, ruining her raw silk dress, and soon you strip it off of her and leave it on the hotel room floor, giggling together as you emerge from the steam shower. Your wicked smile is a red slash across your face.

***

And this is what you did it all for, didn't you?  
It was all for her. 

All for her.

All for her.


End file.
